What happened in hip hop
That got 'Pac and Big shot
The thicks blocks
Now every rapper claim
He let his clip pop
But even myself told the gun
To know to run then get shot
I've been there before
Now I'm fuckin with doc
(Gotta do them Calvin Broadus numbers)
If not I push rocks
Anticipatin' my incarceration
Media think I'm fakin' like mason
But when it comes to mace
Fuck are. Kelly I don't take it in the face
I find out who sprayed it
And I'm putting you under the pavement
No buddhist priest, catholic, or baptist pastor can save him
I'm far from religious
But I got beliefs, so I put
Cannary yellow diamonds
In my jesus piece
I came back from the dead
Without a part of my chest
Layed in a hospital bed on cardiac arrest
I waited for 3 years
While everyone else dropped
Now I understand why nas
Did a song with his pops

[Chorus x2]

I'm ready to die
Without a reasonable doubt
Smoke chronic and hit it
Doggy style before I go out
Until they sign my death certificate
All eyez on me
I'm still at it, illmatic
And that's the documentary

[Verse 2:]

If I die my niggas, fuck it
I did a song with Mary Blige, my niggas
Got a hook from Faith
No verse from Jay
I guess on westside story
He thought I spit in his face
I told Ed and Money Love
I was talkin to Ja
With that Maybach line
It was payback time
Keep fuckin with me nigga
I'll put you under me
Take your car and trade it in
For eight 300Z's
If you cross my T
I dot your I's
You'd do life in a cementary
I'll do mine with Shyne
Come home sit in the thrown
With my legs crossed
And my air force
Middle finger up
Fuck the world
Cause I'm feelin' like puff
When life after death hit
Mo' money, mo' problems
And I lost my best friend
I'm the second dopest nigga
From Compton you'll ever hear
The first nigga only put out albums
Every 7 years (haha)

[Game (Commentator)]
(You know what speakin of Jay
That just makes me roll down
Now your song westside story)
Ohh Ohh
(You got a line that says
Don't wear throwbacks
Or drive, ride in maybachs,
Is that a shot at Jay?)
Naa, I was talkin about Ja Rule
Yeah, So, Yeah, I got a lot of
Respect for Jay
You know what I'm saying
I never take shots at legends
That's just something I don't do

[Verse 3 - Game (Busta)]
Let me tell you why I do this shit
I'm a son of a gun
Cause moms was a hoover crip
First day I got signed
I had to prove I spit
Freestyled with Busta Rhymes
(Son, dude is sick)
Prodigy of Doc Dre.
I could finally put the shoes on
Now that the rumours of Rakim and Cube gone,
They say truth hurts
Chunk, like quick sand
Don't stop me in traffic
And ask about Hitman
I gotta restore the feelin
It crawled from under the rock
After the dog pound
Crushed the buildings
I got a family to feed
I'm the middle of 9 children
We can talk about a loan
After I sell 5 million
If I tell you I ain't game
And I don't know Dre.
You gonn do me like Xzibit
And cut half of my face?
I take all the credit
For putting the west
Back on the map
If you aint feelin that
Go sign Guerilla Black!!!

[Chorus x2]

(Documentary)

Lyrics taken from http://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/t/the_game/the_documentary.html

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